


Love is Patient, Love is Kind

by vodkasam



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crying, Destiel - Freeform, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Protective Castiel, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-31
Updated: 2013-10-31
Packaged: 2017-12-31 00:52:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1025398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vodkasam/pseuds/vodkasam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Sam's first night in Hell, and Dean is a wreck. Cas does what he can to comfort him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love is Patient, Love is Kind

**Author's Note:**

> For purposes of this story, Castiel wasn't in the field and didn't explode.

Castiel quickly departed from heaven, needed in the Winchesters’ motel room. It had started out suddenly, a feeling of strange panic swimming in the angel’s stomach. He hadn’t been in danger, and nothing in Heaven was wrong at the moment, but he still felt an overwhelming sensation of distress. Then came the urge for violence. Castiel repressed this urge easily, but the panic was still there. It was then when he realized; these were not his feelings, but someone else’s.

Castiel instantly appeared in the motel room and found himself in the middle of what looked like a natural disaster – the curtains were torn from their rod, plates were smashed, lamps had been thrown to the ground, a door was slightly off a hinge, and there was a wailing noise coming from the bathroom. Castiel could sense Dean without seeing him. Had it been Sam, Castiel would not have been nearly as frightened, but it was Dean who had destroyed the room, which meant something was very, very wrong.

The angel pushed into the bathroom without asking, even though he and Dean had previously had a conversation about privacy. This seemed too important for knocking. Upon entering, Castiel found that the wailing noise was, in fact, Dean crying. He was leaning against the cabinets and trembling, and Castiel could have sworn Dean looked to be only a few years old. The expression in his eyes was the difference. The hard, stony gaze he usually wore was stripped away and replaced with a bloodshot, childlike look of fear. 

Castiel sank to his knees and reached two fingers out to calm the crying man, but Dean quickly backed up. “No,” he choked out, “no.” Even his voice had regressed. Dean pressed himself into the corner where the wall met the bathtub and dug his nails into his hair, hard. He kept doubling over with the force of sobs, and Castiel felt completely helpless. This magnitude of grief needed a huge trigger, and he had no idea what had happened that caused Dean to make such a mess of the motel room and experience this deep level of anger and sadness.

“Dean,” Castiel murmured, his voice as gentle as if he were speaking to a child. Instead of quieting as Castiel had intended, Dean’s cries echoed louder off the tile. He curled in on himself, unable to process anything other than _pain pain pain_ , and, feeling increasingly uncomfortable, Castiel stepped out into the main room. Within the blink of an eye, he had put everything back in order. When he stepped back into the bathroom, Dean had changed position. He was still backed into the corner, but he had slid down so that he was lying on the cold tile floor. 

“Sam,” Dean sobbed, “Sam…” His eyes were shut so tightly that Castiel thought Dean must be remembering something terrible. As if he could hear his best friend’s thoughts, Dean let out a soft, kitten-cry of anguish. At that, Castiel was overcome with the need to do something. He did what he knew Dean used to do for Sam when he was much younger, and started to draw a warm bath.

Usually, the tap would sound loud at this time of night, but with Dean crying so freely, only the vibration felt hard, not the volume. Castiel went to sit Dean up and, to Castiel’s surprise, Dean actually complied. He let the angel unbutton his shirt and put it on the counter without folding it. He let Castiel gently unlace his shoes and slip them off, along with his socks, and then allowed Castiel to help him stand so he could remove his pants and boxers. Dean was still crying, and his breath was still coming in shudders, but there were light bits of steam rolling off the bath, and it just seemed too inviting to resist.

If Dean were being honest, he wanted to lie down in the water and fall asleep. And “accidentally” drown. But his angel had other plans. 

Castiel unclothed himself and then helped Dean into the bath. They settled easily into the back end of the tub, which wasn’t big by any means, but it was comfortable enough. Dean laid across Castiel’s chest, taking his breaths in big gasps. Slowly, as not to frighten the human anymore, Castiel unfurled his wings and wrapped them around a shaking Dean Winchester. Dean’s breath caught for a moment as he felt the feathers on his skin.

“Cas,” he breathed.

“Hush,” Castiel replied softly, nuzzling Dean. “I’ll protect you.”

“Can you get them wet?” Dean asked. His tears were still flowing, but the sobs had stopped. 

Castiel nodded. Suddenly, Dean had reached out and filled his fingers with the thick, dark feathers. Castiel shuddered, just as Dean had moments before, and the human quickly pulled his hands away.

“Should I not?” he asked, a guilty and fearful expression playing on his features.

Castiel gave a gentle smile and tugged Dean back to his chest. “It’s alright. I just wasn’t expecting it – touching an angel’s wings is an extremely intimate gesture. No one has ever touched mine; I wasn’t sure quite what it would feel like.”

“Did I hurt you?” Dean asked, looking up at the angel.

“No.” A laugh bubbled out of Castiel’s throat. “Not at all, Dean.” Dean nodded, satisfied about not doing any more damage. “You should rest,” Castiel suggested. “I will watch over you.”

“Cas, do me a favor?” Dean asked quietly, staring down at his fingers. “Please don’t leave tonight. I… I won’t be here anymore if you don’t.”

Castiel pulled Dean closer. “I know, Dean.”

“You know?”

“I can feel it. It’s in your ribcage, screaming at me. I can sense your emotions normally, but these are rather loud. I am aware of your pain, and I wish desperately there was something I could do about it.” Dean started to talk, but Castiel held up a finger, cutting him off. “But I can also sense your want to feel the pain, to give whatever has caused this the mourning it deserves. And I will respect that.”

Castiel could feel more tears dripping onto his chest, but the body-wracking sobs had thankfully not resumed. If the angel was being truthful, Dean’s crying really did terrify him, but he was glad to have helped in the relaxing process, even if it took more time than Castiel had hoped. 

Dean dozed off wrapped in Castiel’s wings after twenty minutes or so, exhausted from the crying, but Castiel decided to wake him and move him to the bed to keep him from getting cold overnight. He toweled off a sleepy Dean and then helped him into a pair of warm pajama pants and over to the bed. Castiel could have done all of it without waking him, but he felt Dean would prefer Castiel not work his “angel mojo” on him, especially in this state. 

It proved to be a long night, what with Dean waking up twice in tears, but Castiel consoled him patiently and well and helped soothe him back into sleep. The angel kept Dean wrapped in his wings, protected, all night.

_Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails._


End file.
